Dirt
by FelsGoddess
Summary: Ron has made a special arrangement for when he dies. He waits in the afterlife for his wife.


Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling and Warner Brothers.

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Ronald Weasley had long ago made arrangements for when he would die. There had been many moments in his life that had felt like the end. He had had so many brushes with death; it was some what surprising that he had lived to be a very old man. He had died a mere three days ago and today was the funeral. His death had come peacefully and nature.

His best friend, Harry Potter would be the last to see him as he closed the casket. He had been given a special task by Ron years ago. He would not let his best friend down.

After a distraught Hermione walked away, supported by her son Hugo, Harry pulled a dirty rock out of his pocket and swiped it over Ron's nose. He then whispered goodbye and closed the casket. He walked over to Hermione and took her hand as they left the funeral parlor to go to the cemetery.

As Ron's casket was lowered into the ground, Hermione sobbed into Harry's chest. Tears filled his own eyes as the casket descended and dirt was placed on top. He was really gone.

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Ron found himself lying facedown in the grass, a cool breeze billowing over his body. He looked up, blinking his eyes at the harsh light. There was a loud explosion behind him, causing him to lurch to his feet. He whirled around only to come face to face with his long dead brother Fred.

"Oi! Finally you get up," Fred yelled, "Welcome to the after life!"

Ron shook his head, and then replied, "So I'm dead."

"Sure are."

"What was that boom?"

Fred chuckled, "Me. They have the best practical jokes here."

Ron chuckled. He should not have been surprised. There was no way Fred would let a little thing like death stop him from creating mayhem.

Ron went to run his hand through his hair, but froze as his hand passed over his eyes. It was young. There were no age spots or wrinkles. He immediately touched his face. There were no creases. His skin was smooth. He reached for his hair. It was all there! He yanked out a piece; it was red, not grey!

"I-I'm young again," Ron mumbled in disbelief.

"Duh," Fred responded, throwing an arm around his brother's shoulders, "Come on. Mum and Dad are waiting."

Ron walked with his brother in silence. It was all quite a lot to take in, after all. He wondered what it was like. Did his parents 'live' in a place like the Burrow or were they in some grand house they couldn't have in life? Was everyone that had died here or just his family?

"Ah here we are!" Fred announced grandly. In front of them was a dreamy sort of version of the Burrow. A silvery glow seemed to surround the home. The garden was gnome free. Two porcelain pots were set outside the door.

Ron entered through the kitchen door. He stared at his surroundings. It looked like the Burrow, but it wasn't. It was sort of hazy. There were no dishes lying around or dirt anywhere. Ron and Fred continued through to the sitting room. Molly and Arthur rose from their chairs, looking much younger then Ron had remembered them. They both engulfed Ron in a hug.

"Hello, dear," Molly said quietly.

"Hi, Mum," Ron mumbled.

"Hi, son," Arthur greeted.

"Is everyone here?" Ron asked.

"Yes," Molly nodded, "George, Bill, and Percy. You are free to come and go. Anything you want."

Ron nodded. He climbed the oddly familiar stairs to where his boyhood room had been. He pushed open the door and just stared. It looked almost like his room had when he was fourteen. Fourteen… he looked in the mirror. He looked that way. He had a spot of dirt on his noise. Dirt….

Ron froze. Hermione. How could he have forgotten about Hermione? He turned to rush out the door, running into Fred again.

"What's the rush?"

"Hermione!"

"Ron, she's still alive," Fred told him, gripping his shoulders. He pointed to the ground and the floorboards parted. Instead of seeing the kitchen below, he could see Hermione sitting next to Harry in Ron and Hermione's parlor. She had her head on Harry's shoulder. Ron could hear him telling Hermione that it would be okay, the pain would lessen.

Ron crouched down, trying to touch his wife. He only met air. Fred pulled Ron to his feet.

"You cannot interfere. You can only watch," Fred advised him and left Ron alone.

So Ron watched. He checked on Hermione, his children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and friends many times a day, or what passed for day here. He watched their trials and errors. He watched their first days at Hogwarts, the birth of his great-granddaughter, even a wedding. He watched as Harry and Hermione helped each other every day. They had become closer, just as Ron had hoped. Hermione found joy in the children. She took care of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren with much joy. He watched as she sold their home and moved in with their daughter Rose.

Three Christmas's passed before Harry died. When he arrived in the afterlife, Ron hung back as his parents engulfed him in a hug. Sirus was not far. Lupin, Tonks, Dumbledore, Hagrid, the Weasleys, and countless more were waiting their turn to say hello.

When it was Ron's turn, Harry gave him a grin, "I see that it stayed."

Ron nodded, touching his noise softly. No one but he, Harry, and Hermione understood what that meant.

Ron watched with great sadness as Hermione grew more distant from everyone. Needless to say, it was no surprise that Hermione died a month later. She had lost her two best friends since she had been eleven. Nothing could ease a loss like that.

Ron was ready when she died. He sat in Hogwarts robes in a train car, Harry across from him. He smiled as the door to their compartment opened. She smiled at him and said,

"You've got dirt on your nose."


End file.
